Fun with Dr Lecter and the Joker
by UnstoppableSkyflyer
Summary: I've always loved these two villains and so I've meshed them together in this story. Thanks to "that guy you know the one" for the idea. The Joker in this story is the Dark Knight one because he is my absolute favourite character. Enjoy!
1. An Assignment

Dr. Arkham rubbed the back of his neck. It was a long night. He still had a mountain of paperwork to get through. But that was nothing compared to the difficult situation he was in.

"Hey, Doctor. You still here? Take a break!" said Jonathon Corem, poking his head round the door. "It's 3:40 in the _morning_, sir. What could possibly take this long?"

"Jon, I don't know what to do. This is the _Joker_ case we're talking about. He needs a new doctor but every doctor in the county is refusing to take him. Have you seen what he did to all his doctors?? Every one of them either quit, died or went crazy themselves. He's broken them all! There are no more left!" Dr. Arkham wailed.

"None?! How the hell did he do that?! There must be _someone_..."

"I'm telling you, this man is full-on insane. Remember poor Doctor Stratford? _Suicide_! After 4 sessions!"

"Well..." Jon sat down. "There must be some way...that we can beat him at his own game. Find someone who is just like him. Fight fire with fire."

"You mean... find an equally insane person...for his doctor...under full surveillance, of course..." Dr. Arkham rubbed his chin contemplatively. "But look how he reacts to group therapy. He _hates_ it. He hates other crazy people as much as he hates sane ones. It won't work. And we need someone with strong willpower and insane people don't have that. Plus, where will we find someone just as insane? No, it wouldn't do..."

"Sir! Do you remember the Hannibal Lecter case?"

"How could I forget?! It was splattered all over the newspapers! And to think, I met him! He was such a brilliant psychiatrist!" Dr Arkham's eyes lit up, something they hadn't done for a long time. "That would be... perfect! Lecter could definitely handle anything the Joker threw at him! Get me Bertley Asylum!"

Hannibal Lecter was, once again, resting on his cold mattress. He was woken by a shrill whistle. Dr. Wolff was standing in front of his cell, a thick file in his hand.

"Hey, Lecter. You have an assignment. You've been chosen to be this man's doctor. If you accept, you'll be moved into Arkham Asylum. Your cell will be bigger, you will have more freedom and we will give you your books and junk back. If I were you, I'd say yes."

Lecter stood up and looked straight into Dr. Wolff's cold, cold eyes. "Why have they chosen me?"

"You're the only psychiatrist we could find who is...well, _good _enough."

Lecter stretched. "Well, I am tempted. What's this man like?"

Dr. Wolff pushed the files through the glass flap.

"Well...if you like playing games, then you're going to_ love_ this guy."

Lecter looked through the papers. "The_ Joker_?The infamous clown prince of crime? I am flattered, Doctor!"

"Ah, so you've heard of him?"

"_Heard_ of him? Why, who hasn't? The newspapers adore him. I've always wanted to work with him. This is a rare treat, very rare indeed, Doctor. I accept."

"Good." The Doctor signalled for Lecter to hand over the files.

"Am I not allowed to keep them? I am his doctor, after all." Lecter gave him an ambiguous stare. Dr Wolff turned sharply on his heel and briskly walked off.


	2. What an interesting character

"We're gonna need those back, please."

"Wait just a minute, I'm almost finished." Lecter said. "_What_ an interesting character. Very confident in what he does. No empathy at all. Well-tuned sense of irony. From what I can see, there is no reason for most of his killings which makes him all the harder to analyze but here, he had a lot of fun with this particular victim," he held the horrifying picture up so Doctor Harris could see, "He had a purpose here."

"Well, what was it?" Dr. Harris glanced at the photo and felt like puking. "Please, put that down."

Lecter did as he was told. "You see, this man isn't as simple as your average every-day human being. Here, what he wanted was to really annoy someone. Maybe enough for them to kill him."

"Why on earth would he want that?!"

"Purely for the fun of it. I see he is just full of giddiness and high spirits. I would very much like to meet him." Lecter studied the picture again. "But there's something I can't put my finger on. There's a very mixed signal coming from this picture." He smiled. "Well, here you go, Doctor."

Dr. Harris warily took the files from the flap, Lector's eyes never leaving her face, and hastily scuttled off.

Later on, Dr. Wolff came, his eyes clouded with distress. "You ready?"

Hannibal obediently stood up. "Y'know, you really ought to take a break once in a while, Tom. Have a little holiday, maybe go relax in a beach in Barbados with Luke and Kate, your darling wife."

Dr. Wolff furiously ignored him and put Lecter's restraint mask, but Lecter could sense the troublesome look in his eyes. He continued.

"Trust me, Tom. From one doctor to another. Stress; it's a killer." Dr. Wolff put Lecter's straightjacket on.

" Thanks for the tip" he snarled.

"No worries." Lecter winked. He could tell this really unsettled Dr. Wolff because the doctor was refusing to make eye contact and was hastily carting him out, where he was given an injection. Next thing he knew, he had woken up in a wide padded cell and everything was an unbearably strong white. He was feeling terribly woozy and lethargic and felt like he couldn't even get up.

_Must be the drugs,_ he thought groggily to himself. There was nothing in the awfully bare room but himself. His restraint mask was off. Instead of the usual blue, he was in his straightjacket and an orange uniform.

"Shame. I liked blue."

Almost as if in response to his comment, a grey haired man with a lot of wrinkles and a stressed look in his eyes walked in.

"I see you're up. Good morning, and welcome, Mr. Lecter, to Arkham Asylum. I am-"

"Doctor Charles Arkham of Arkham Asylum, the proud owner and founder of this remarkable institution. Of course I remember you. How do you do?" Lecter smiled.

Dr. Arkham almost smiled back, but realised who he was talking to. It was the smooth charm of Hannibal Lecter that unnerved him. There was only one other person who unnerved him as much as Lecter, and he was in the other room.

"Dr. Lecter, I trust you've read and signed all the terms of agreement?" He felt stupid. Why would a madman care about a mere contract?

"Oh yes, Doctor. When can I start?" Lecter asked politely.

Dr. Arkham's lips tightened as if he was sucking on vinegar. "Tomorrow."


	3. Breakfast

The shriek of the breakfast alarm echoed throughout the cold empty halls, piercing into the Joker's brain.

"Alright, alright, alright, alright, I'M UP!" he growled. The alarm stopped after a few seconds. He stretched. A doctor followed by two security guards walked in.

"Don't bother knocking..." he murmured.

"Good morning, Patient 34029. Today-"

"I get to meet my new doctor! Doctor Lecter, was it? Oh goody, he sounds like a hoot." He grinned.

"Yes, in the afternoon. If the session proves to be successful, you will continue to have them every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday." And with that he turned and walked out. His breakfast was shoved through that ridiculous catflap on the door. The Joker looked at it in disgust. Not only did it look like something a dog would eat, but it was presented to him in such a degrading way. Really, how shameful. What a ludicrously poor excuse of a breakfast. He wasn't actually expected to _eat _it, was he?

"Patient 34029, please eat your breakfast." said a voice coming from the speakers.

The Joker threw his head back and laughed. It echoed throughout the hallway. The doctors shivered. The Joker stretched again and lay on his bed.

"I'm not hungry."

"That's what you said yesterday, and the day before, and the day before. _Please._"

"Well, then, get better food. I mean, _what is that_?" he pointed to the slop on the tray.

Silence.

"Thought so," he said, curling up on the hard bed.

Five minutes later, a tall, gangly man came in. He picked up the tray and placed it next to the bed. "This is a vegan omelette and a green tea. Both highly nutri-"

"What the hell would a vegan omelette have in it?? On second thoughts, I don't wanna know. All righty, then, I'll try the green tea." The Joker took a deep swig and spat the lot out. "That is _nasty_! Tastes like mouldy leaves! Which I guess it is, huh?"

He giggled whilst the man sighed in frustration.

Another five minutes later, the same man came back with a different tray of food.

"What?!" hissed the Joker.

"This here is water, this is a plain muffin-"

"I know what it is! I'm saying, what's it doing here?!"

"We thought you'd like something more normal-"

"Normal?? _Normal?_? Look at me, you moron! Do I look _normal_ to you?"

"No, that's not what I meant-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. The Joker swiftly snatched the tray out of his hands and brought it down on his head, where it made a satisfying bang. Next thing he knew, two security guards were holding him down and another two were dragging the unconscious man away.

From the surveillance camera in the doctor's lounge, Hannibal and the doctors had seen everything. They were all shocked, but Hannibal suppressed a smile. _Clearly likes attention_, he thought.

"Dr. Lecter. Could you devise a breakfast for him? Something he'll eat?" asked Dr. Arkham pleadingly. Hannibal was surprised. Still, he needed their trust.

"If he does indeed eat, what's in it for me?" asked Hannibal.

"You can walk in the garden for a half-hour under full surveillance." Said Dr. Arkham.

Hannibal sighed. He wasn't going to get anything better than that. "Done."

Jon got out a notepad.

"He has an excitable personality. Do you really think he'll be pleased with such dull food? He wants...hmm... something with a high amount of sugar in it."

"But that's strictly against hospital rules-"

"Well, with the Joker, I guess you're going to have to break some rules. Bring him Coco pops. And lots of Nutella. Jam. And...an apple. I have a hunch he's an apple kind of person. Hop to it, Jonathon, breakfast is nearly over."

Jon looked confused. "Trust me, Jon, you won't be displeased with the results."


	4. Another Wacko

"Breakfast," said a woman's voice.

The Joker groaned. "Look, will we have to go through this routine every day?" he sat up, rubbing his eyes. He raised his eyebrows at the meal and smiled.

"Compliments of Dr. Lecter."

"I like him already."

The success with the Joker's breakfast really boosted Hannibal's popularity. Most of the doctors could actually look at him now. It wasn't much, but it was definitely a start. He even got congratulations from Dr. Arkham.

_Not bad for a first day_, he thought. _Can you even imagine what they'll be like after a week?_

Later that afternoon, it was time for their first session. Lecter had to be carted there because he still didn't have the use of his legs from the drugs. He had to wear a restraint mask too which made him look terrifying. The only things he could use were his hands to write things down with the specially designed foam pen.

The Joker was already there, yawning. He looked at the person who had just entered the room with contempt. _Oh great. Just what we need. Another wacko, _he thought.

"Look, buddy, this is _my_ session time-"

"Good afternoon, Joker. I am your Doctor."

And in the blink of an eye, the Joker's expression changed from a disturbing scowl to the biggest grin you've ever seen. "HA!"

"So, how do you feel today?"

"Terrible, and yourself?"

"Better than I've been for a long time, Joker."

"Hey, why are you calling me by my name and not Patient 34029, Lecter?"

"Because that is your name. I'm not like the other psychiatrists, Joker."

"Mmmhmm, and how's that?"

"I'm a cannibal."

"Uh-huh." The Joker looked like he did believe Lecter, but just wasn't interested. This fascinated Lecter. "They sure know how to pick 'em, huh?"

Lecter smiled. "I am here because although I am somewhat of a psychopath, I happen to be a pretty good psychiatrist. And I happen to be the only one who won't be floored by your clever little tricks. Yes, I know every trick in the book. I invented them."

It was true; the Joker _had _wanted to test just how good he was. He had tried a series of different antics on all his psychiatrists to freak them out and unnerve them because it was blissfully fun and because they worked. But they obviously weren't going to work with Dr. Lecter. Not that he minded. Hannibal was his favourite psychiatrist so far. He didn't actually _like_ him but, then again, he didn't like anyone.

"So, when you get out of here, what will you do first?" Hannibal asked.

"...Something..._fun_."

"Who will you kill first?"

"Who will _you_ kill first?"

"A man called Dr. Frederick Chilton."

"How you gonna do that?"

"I believe I'll eat him. _Your turn."_

"I don't know about firsts, Doctor, but someone who is definitely on my blacklist is Officer James Gordon. He couldn't even give me a minute."

"And how will you kill him?"

"I'll shove a vegan omelette down his throat…"

Their cackling could be heard throughout the asylum.

"Lecter, this is _not_ an appropriate conversation," said a woman's voice through the speakers.

Lecter grinned. This was surprisingly pleasant. He was feeling a lot like his old self again. The Joker was incredibly charming and charismatic in his own unique, quirky way. He had an aura, something that made you want more.

"All right. Joker, do you feel any regret for what you've done? A hint of sorrow for all the people you've killed, the crimes you've committed? "

The Joker sucked his teeth. "Nothing."

"No remorse?"

"None whatsoever."

"What _do_ you feel when you kill someone?"

"A lot of things, Doc. Happy…excited…giddy…surprised."

"_Surprised_?" This truly astonished Lecter. "Of course! Laughter is triggered by surprise and relief. Tell me, why do you feel surprised?"

"Surprised I could do such things, I guess. Gets me every time!"

"So that's why you laugh?"

"No. I laugh because I can. And it's hilarious how funny, how _ludicrous_ this world is. When I was younger, Doctor, I never laughed. I was always so…_serious_. But that was before. Now I always see the bright side. Everything's so much better when you…_smile_…" He gave a sinister grin.

"Castigat ridendo mores." Lecter murmured.

"What was that?" snapped the Joker, glaring at him.

"It's Latin, my dear fellow. 'One corrects customs by laughing at them'. Ah." Lecter replied, staring at the padded gloves on his hands, "I really hate these things."

He cleared his throat. "Now, Joker. What is your opinion on therapy?"

"Hmm. Therapy is expensive. Popping bubble wrap is cheap. You choose."

"Do you ever feel…stressed?"

"Not any more, Doc. My life got better now I finally enjoy it. See, stress is when you wake up screaming and you realize you haven't gone to sleep yet. I'm not tense, just terribly, terribly alert."

"Dr. Lecter, your session time is over. Please stay where you are."

Lecter and the Joker exchanged amused smirks.

"How can I possibly do otherwise?"


	5. Like a dog on a leash

"What is he doing, Dr. Arkham?"

"It looks like he's reading up on the Joker case again, Drew."

"Dr. Arkham, do you think this is a good idea? The thought of these two...psychopaths in the same building is...quite frankly, frightening."

"Drew, we've been through this. Dr. Lecter is regularly dosed with high concentrations of drugs which deny him the use of his legs. I know he has tried to escape a few times before in his previous asylum, but this time, he just doesn't have the energy. There's nothing to worry about."

"It's not just him, sir. It's the Joker. I know this sounds silly, but the fact he hasn't tried to escape is even more...unnerving. I feel he's in there, waiting...biding his time-"

"What you need is a good night's sleep. You're being paranoid over nothing. Dr. Lecter is making excellent progress with the Joker case. I feel we're really making a...er...breakthrough here."

"Yes, sir."

Moments later, Dr. Arkham was in Lecter's padded cell.

"Good evening, Doctor. Burning the midnight oil, I see. I hate to be a fusspot, but do they have to tie me up next to this rubber pole in this degrading fashion? Like a dog on a leash?"

"It is for everyone's safety, Lecter. So, how much progress have you made?"

"Well. I have finished with the Mildon massacre."

"And?"

"I wish I could say that my hypothesis remains unaltered. It is incredibly difficult to explain but I shall try my best. At first I thought they were random but now I'm guessing he carefully plans out his crimes yet hides his reasons. And unfortunately for you, he does it very well. I have scanned these and I still don't have a reason. All I can say is there is a reason. "

"How do you know they're not random killings?"

"Because there's something. There is no smoke without fire. There was something to spark each and every one of those crimes, Doctor. But I can't find the reason. "

Dr. Arkham turned, and just before he closed the door, heard Lecter's voice from behind him.

"He's a smart one, Doctor. I'd keep _him_ on a leash if I were you."


	6. My dear delusional doctor

The ominous meeting with Hannibal left Dr. Arkham feeling terribly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, before he could relax and go home to his anxious wife, he still had one last stop to make. He paused before the big white door, took a deep breath and stepped inside. He was half-hoping that the curled-up body on the bed meant Joker was asleep.

"Evening...Doctor." Of course not. This man did not sleep.

"I came to inform you that I'll be leaving for Idaho-"

The Joker sat up. "Work, work, work. Is that all you ever do?" He cocked his head to one side.

Dr. Arkham froze. That was exactly what his wife told him over the phone the day before. Surely the _Joker_ didn't have access to the phone lines, did he? The thought alone was terrifying. No, must be a coincidence. He hastily continued.

"Yes, well, er, I'm going to Idaho tomorrow, and I'll be leaving you under the care of my assistant, Jonathon Corem."

The Joker's eyes widened as though he had heard the most ludicrous thing in the world, and then he burst into hysterical peals of laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"_Under the care of._...HAHAHAHAHA! Because they are truly incorruptible, aren't they?" said the Joker, trying to suppress his giggles, "Why, my dear delusional doctor, the only difference between me and _them _is that I'm merely one step ahead."

"_What_? What do you mean?"

"I mean your men are the ones wearing masks, Doctor. Not me. But one day, those masks'll come off, whether you like it or not."

"If you have doubt in the loyalty of my employees, Joker, I'll have you know they are the most trustworthy crew a man could ask for."

"Ah, but for how long? You can't spoon-feed them money forever. One day, Arkham might be going through a rocky time. Then it'll get rough."

"I don't understand..."

"See, Doc, in the time I've been here, I've noticed a few things. First, people will do anything for money. Money, money, money. A guy could take his daughter's life for a dollar. What _is_ it with you people and _money_? It hangs over you like a..." he wrinkled his nose in disgust, "_stench_."

"And no offence, but Arkham seems to be a little low on funds. It's not doing too well for itself, is it?" he said, looking round. "It's so blatantly obvious, Doctor. Come on. Clear as a bell. I know a smart man like yourself has noticed it. Everyone has. Yet they avoid talking about it...like a..._disease_. It's pathetic how you're all living this _lie_, when you know exactly what's going on. Pretending everything's just _swell_. Makes me sick. You're corrupt. You're all corrupt."

Dr. Arkham shook his head. Not in his hospital.

The Joker grinned.

"Of course. You can't, _won't_ believe it. That's what I find funny about you, Doctor. So pitifully naive."

Dr. Arkham swallowed. "Not Jonathon..."

Joker's grin stretched even wider.

"Second, people are so…_fickle. _The minute they see a better deal, they forget anything else and scramble to get it like rats. Even if what they need to do to get to it is horrifying." he stared at Dr. Arkham, "No, Dr. Arkham, Jonathon is no rat. That's why dear Jonathon won't survive long in this cruel, tough world."

And with that, Dr. Arkham walked out, slammed the door and locked it hastily. He let out a deep breath and gulped down a stress pill. That was the thing about working in a mental hospital. You had to be very careful you didn't go crazy yourself.


	7. A ray of sunshine

**Because I won't be writing in the holidays as I will probably be far away from internet access, I spent ages finishing these last two chapters. I'm really tired, but it'll be worth it if you like it! In this chapter, I delve into Joker's more lovable side and give you a taste of what Dr. Arkham's personal life is like. Enjoy!**

The next day, Dr. Arkham woke early, even though he hadn't slept a wink. He just had to go back to Arkham. To check if everything was O.K. To make sure Hannibal and Joker were in order. To put his wildly agitated mind at rest. He was feeling horribly apprehensive. He remembered what Lecter said when he first heard that Dr. Arkham was leaving for a while and leaving his assistant, Jonathon, in charge of the Joker. _Are you sure that's a wise idea, Doctor? Jonathon isn't the brightest crayon in the box._

"There's nothing to worry about. Jon knows what he's doing," he muttered to himself as he got dressed. _No, he doesn't., _said a voice in him_, Joker will wipe the floor with him! What am I playing at? I can't think straight anymore._ He hadn't slept in days.

His wife sat up sleepily, stared at him for a while and bit her lip.

"Where are you off to?"

"The asylum, I-"

She looked tired and worried.

"Honey...honey, I think you have neurosis. You spend more time there than anywhere else. You work too hard. Please, don't go there today. You're going on your business trip tonight, you can sleep now. You're becoming obsessed with work."

"I have to go," he whispered. Just one last check. So he could have peace of mind when he went. So he could stop worrying.

When he got there, he wasn't surprised to see Jon look upset.

"Sir, it's 6:15, you have your trip tonight. Get some rest!"

"Are they in their cells? Is everything in order?"

"_Yes_, sir, everything's peachy! Now go home!"

"I need to see them. To...er...say goodbye," he lied. He didn't want Jon to know he just wanted to confirm that they were there, in the flesh. They were a slippery bunch and that made him feel uneasy.

"O-k..." Jon handed over the keys.

He ran down the corridor and quickly opened the door. The Joker was there, curled in a ball (as usual) and lightly snoring. Dr. Arkham coughed.

"Good morning."

The Joker rolled over and put his head under the pillow.

"Good would have been at 10," came his muffled reply.

Dr. Arkham, for the first time in weeks, smiled.

"Wha' you doin' 'ere? It's _SAT-UR-DAY_!" he mumbled, putting a huge emphasis on the last three syllables.

"I came to check if you were all right."

The Joker sat up and gave him a look of confusion that was so exaggerated that even Dr. Arkham gave a small giggle.

"Are you drugged? Me thinks you're crazier than me!"

That was the utterly amazing thing about the Joker. It could be so hard to hate him sometimes because he was so charming. He was truly terrifying, a vicious psychopath, a freak, yet he could always make someone smile. When he was in a good mood, of course.

The Joker blinked and gazed intently at Dr. Arkham.

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?"

Dr. Arkham knew he was getting at the dark circles under his eyes, the heavy wrinkles on his forehead and the grey hair. It looked as though he had aged ten years overnight.

"Ha ha, Joker. I'm going tonight and I, er, just wanted to say bye." Truth was, now that he thought of it, he needed someone to talk to too. Someone like the Joker, who was such a good listener.

"No, wait, stay." said the Joker, "What happened? Someone die?" he was still staring at the wrinkles.

"No...no. Not yet, anyhow."

The Joker chuckled.

"Well, what then? I so adore the guessing game. Worried about leaving your darling Arkham? Gonna miss us lot?" he gave an amused smile.

The fact that Joker seemed to care about what was on Dr. Arkham's mind was so endearing. _How can someone hate such a loveable clown...?_ Dr. Arkham shook himself mentally. _What am I thinking?_

Joker was such a tricky person. You could never fully hate him nor could you fully like him. He was the most complex human being Arkham had ever met. He couldn't hate the Joker despite all the crimes he had committed because he was...well, a joker. And goodness knows, Dr. Arkham needed a few jokes.

Hannibal was slightly easier. At least with him, you talked like you would to a colleague.

"Hmm...ah. Trouble with the wife?" he gave a knowing look.

"How did you guess?"

"Face it. You're a workaholic. This place is going to your head whether you like it or not. Women need constant attention or they get _whiny_, and _clingy_, and _naggy_, and _screamy_..."

Dr. Arkham smiled. He then realized what he was doing. He was having a chat with a mental patient! _How the hell did he do it??? I swear, he's just like a drug, _thought Dr. Arkham.

"Well, bye, I really need to go."

"See, what did I tell ya..."

He slammed the door. _Weird,_ thought Dr. Arkham. _The other day he was screaming at me and today we were just chatting like old friends. How curious. _Dr. Arkham could never get accustomed to the Joker's erratic behaviour and extreme mood swings.

One last stop. He then realized. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he liked Hannibal and the Joker's company. They were such a lively bunch. Even if they were terrifying most of the time. So much more interesting than all those other sheep. _I think I'm going crazy,_ thought Dr. Arkham. _These guys are finally getting to me._

"Good morning, Doctor. You're looking awfully stressed today. "

"Good morning, Lecter."

"You're anxious, aren't you?"

_Damn it,_ thought Dr. Arkham . _How is he so shrewd?_

"You know I am."

"Scared something will go wrong when you're gone and the blame will be put on you. You don't fully trust the oafish Jonathon as he is a fine specimen of idiot. Terrified as you have never had patients as extreme or dangerous as me or the Joker. You feel even edgier now because we are in the same asylum and together, we can do unimaginable things. Apprehensive because you're leaving and only you can really put this hospital in order. And nervous because you know, although you are ashamed to admit it, your staffs are corrupt and would gladly set me and the Joker loose on Gotham for a bit of extra cash on the side. And that is only the start of your problems. I don't blame you, Doctor."

Dr. Arkham was silent. He felt better sharing his problems already. Hannibal continued.

"When will you be back?"

"A month or two."

"Hmm."

Dr. Arkham glanced at his watch. He had a very upset wife to go home to.

"I'd love to stay and chat but I do need to go, Lecter, Goodbye."

"Have a great trip. And, Doctor?"

Dr. Arkham spun round.

"Yes?"

"Get some sleep."


	8. Tests

**My flight was cancelled and is due tomorrow, which gives me more time to write! Enjoy!**

"Hello, Patient 34029. Today, we'll be doing a few small tests," said the slim brunette doctor, standing in front of the door.

"Testing what, doctor?"

"I.Q, mental reflexes, hand-eye co-ordination, memory, stuff like that. We want to see, overall, how intelligent you are."

He scoffed, with a disbelieving look on his face.

"We will start with this passage and time how long it takes for you to read it," she said, handing him a laminated piece of paper with no sharp edges. "What's wrong?"

"I can't read."

"Oh yeah? How did you type _this_, then?" she said, holding up an evidence file, containing the card he gave to the Gotham police department that wrote "Will the Batman please stand up?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."

"Can you please just do them?"

"I dunno. _Can_ I?"

She sighed in frustration. "_Could_ you please just do them?"

"I _could_, but, what's in it for me?"

"It'll help-"

She didn't say "us". The Joker gave her a glare so furiously cold she gave a small shriek and ran out the room.

Later, they got none other than Hannibal Lecter to help. He agreed in exchange for being able to read his books with his own heavily gloved hands instead of having someone hold the book up and turning the page for him.

He sighed.

"I've been hearing a lot about your tomfoolery and apathy for the tests," he murmured through his restraint mask.

"Why should I try?"

"They want to know exactly what they are dealing with, but obviously that's not going to happen due to your pertinacious unwillingness to co-operate. It would, however, be a great help if you took a just a few of these tests, so they have a vague idea. It will make it easier to treat you. I promise you the tests will be as brief and discreet as possible. Plus, you get a lollipop at the end. "

"…Go ahead, Doc."

"Excellent. Although they'd like to, they won't be testing your I.Q. I've promised to get you to do as few tests as possible, and the results from your other tests should be enough. Hand-eye co-ordination is out of the question, as all the doctors know you are an expert gunman without having any tedious tests to prove it. So, from what I see…mental reflexes are first."

Hannibal took out a few cards.

"Say out loud the color of the word and not the word…I will time you and you may start…now..."

Joker leaned on his elbow.

"Green

Red

Purple

Orange

Yellow

Blue

Pink

Brown

Red

Purple

Orange

Yellow

Green

Red

Blue

Purple

Pink. Was that it?"

"Yes. Very well done, your results are as I suspected. Above average. I really don't think we need to waste any more time on reflexes. Next up, we have memory."

"I'm going to hold up a card with 40 words on it. Your job is to try and remember as many as you can in one minute and then recite them at the end. Ready…and…go!"

Joker's eyes quickly scanned the sheet.

"And…time's up."

And to Hannibal Lecter's surprise, Joker recited each and every word correctly.

"That is exceptional, Joker."

He wrote lightly in pencil "_patient can memorize huge amounts of information in little time."_

"I think we're done, my good fellow."

"Really? Well, that's swell."

The brunette doctor stepped in at that point and eagerly grabbed the sheets, her eyes bright.

"Thanks a million, Lecter."

Joker looked furious.

"I'm not the one you should be thanking, Doctor Mirrel."

"Oh, and, uh, th-thanks, Patient 34029."

_I don't believe it,_ thought the Joker. _He's a cannibal yet he gets all the thanks and praise like he's just saved the day. _

"Will that be all?" she mumbled timidly.

"I want my lollipop."

"Ah, yes, I promised him a lollipop if he co-operated."

"Are you sure…"she said uncertainly, "…very well, when he's in his cell."


	9. What a lovely lollipop

"Your, erm, lollipop..." mumbled Doctor Mirrel.

He sighed.

"How the hell do I enjoy a lollipop without the use of my hands? Tell me, have _you_ ever had a lollipop in a straightjacket?"

"I'm not sure if I'm really supposed to..."

"I'll be under supervision, won't I? There aren't many shenanigans I can pull off with a lollipop, apart from getting my clothes sticky. C'mon, I've been good as pie."

"I'll just go get a security guard..."

"Fine by _me_."

Moments later, with a security guard and Doctor Mirrel present, the Joker took his brightly coloured lollipop and started licking it elatedly.

"Mmm. Bubblegum flavour. Delightful choice. Who chose it?"

"Me," said the doctor, blushing.

"Well, you have excellent taste in lollipops," he said, flashing her an enchanting smile.

This totally confused poor Dr. Mirrel. A minute ago, he was looking like he'd rather kill her than be in the same room as her but now...he was being so warm and friendly. She absolutely hated him because he had been so stroppy but now that smile just...melted her heart. In a mere second, everything he had done was forgotten.

_How could I have been terrified of such a cute guy?_ she thought.

What she didn't know was that this was just part of the Joker's charm. She also didn't know that that one smile would be her downfall.

_Oh my lord_, she thought. _I-I'm in love._

She looked down at her shoes so he wouldn't see her burning face. When she thought she had cooled down enough, she looked up and saw the Joker smiling his dazzling smile at her. She almost smiled back when she realised the lollipop was gone.

"Where's the lollipop?"

"I ate it."

"But-but where's the stick?"

He shrugged.

A short stab of panic poked at her stomach.

"Did you see anything?" she said, turning to the guard.

"Sorry, I wasn't watching..." he said agitatedly.

She turned to the Joker. "What did you do with it?"she asked frantically.

The Joker shrugged again.

"What do you mean? Where is it?"

"Lost it."

"How did you lose it?"

"Just did. You know what your problem is? You worry way too much. Look how berserk you're going over one little old lollipop stick. Relax, take it easy."

How did he do that? She instantly felt so much more comfortable. Really, it was just a small bendy plastic stick. It didn't matter whether he kept it or not.

"Ok, I guess we can let it slide this time. Next time you want a lollipop though, you're wearing handcuffs."

"Fine by me. Thanks ever so much, Doctor, you're an angel."

That was it. She pushed open the door and hurried out, followed by the oafish security guard.


	10. You're new here, aint'cha?

Dr. Mirrel stared at her ceiling. She had barely talked to anyone that day after the meeting with Joker. Not that anyone noticed. But she felt so embarrassed. It was wrong, sick to like a murderer like him. When she first saw him, she was horrified. Disgusted. Those scars repulsed her. But now, it was all gone. He was in her thoughts and no matter what she did, she couldn't shake it off.

_What's wrong with me? Why do I feel like this? _she thought._ I swear, he's a hypnotist. He's hacked into my brain._

Of course, she didn't feel just one thing about him. It was never that easy with the Joker. No, she felt...disgust...and...awe...and annoyance... distress...and...a deep, deep fascination...and there, at the very bottom, not love, more like lust. Just a silly infatuation.

She wanted more. He was just too interesting. She couldn't refrain from thinking about him, in the same way one can't look away from a car crash. She then shook herself mentally. _Who _are_ you?_ she thought desperately.

The next day, she went to the asylum early and asked if she could be called off helping the Joker case.

"Why? Whatever's the matter?" asked Jon.

"Nothing. It's just...he really, really freaks me out." She couldn't say he was getting to her.

"If it's absolutely vital...and you fear for your sanity then, of course, Sarah," said Jon, looking at her pleading eyes, "we can put your sister on the case."

"Thank you so much, Jon," came her relieved reply. Her more strong-willed sister could more than handle him.

"Are you off from working with Lecter, then?"

"Oh, no, him I can handle," she said sarcastically.

They both grinned.

"Very well, we'll transfer you to...erm...Benjamin Kertz. Paranoid schizophrenia."

"I owe you one, Jon."

Meanwhile, the Joker was half-awake in his bed. He always just drifted in and out of sleep and mostly just had cat naps, never deep sleep.

_How hilarious. She is hooked. She'll be a worthy pawn, I just know it. She will rue the day she crossed me_, thought the Joker before slipping into another light sleep.

"Dr. Mirrel will no longer be helping out with this case, Jok- patient 34029." It was a light, cool female voice.

He sat up. Who said that?! Was it in his dream or did it come from the loudspeaker?

"Why not?" he asked out loud.

"The reasons as to why are nothing to do with you."

"Yeah! I'll bet they aren't!" he scoffed.

...Was it his imagination, or did he hear a sweet, stifled giggling?

"You're new here, aren'cha?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you're _laughing_!"

It started again, sweeter and louder, music to his ears.

"Ye-Yeah, I'm her siste-"

"That's _enough_, Dr. Quinzel!"

Ah, Dr. Quinzel. He knew he'd like her. He could just imagine her; tall, slim, maybe brunette like her sister and a flowery, girly perfume to match her melodic voice. Oh yes. He was gonna like her.

"Breakfast, patient 34029," said another familiar, gruff voice. A tray was shoved through the cat flap.

"You seem to have confused my breakfast with the dog's," he murmured, rubbing his eyes.

Faint giggling.

"Will you _quit_ with the jokes?" the loudspeaker bellowed.

The Joker shrugged, and with a sigh, got out of bed and crawled towards the breakfast. Today was Tuesday, so that would make it...limp toast with a tiny box of butter and sour orange juice to go with it_. _And sure enough, when he got to the tray, he was right. The asylum absolutely adored routine. Routine was everything at Arkham asylum. No matter what, the staff at Arkham always strived to keep its routine. That was tough, though. Because the Joker didn't like routine.

"And what's my doctor's opinion on this?" he said lifting the tray up to the camera, making its contents fall off with a splash, a dull clunk and then a splat.

A frustrated sigh. "Very well. We'll be back shortly with your breakfast."

10 minutes later, as The Joker ate his high-sugar breakfast, the other doctors left the doctor's lounge. All but two.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel gazed intently at the screen, her eyes bright, unaware Dr. Lecter was staring at her shrewdly.

"Seen anything you like?"

She turned around quickly, surprised.

"Er, w-what do you mean?" she said, looking at Dr. Lecter. Unlike the other doctors, she wasn't terrified of him, but then again, Harleen never read newspapers. She remembered what her sister told her when she first got her job at the asylum. _You'll want to watch out for Dr. Lecter. He's- he's mentally insane._

_Well, then, why is he a doctor? _Harley had asked dubiously.

_He's the only one who can help us on the Joker case, _was Sarah's reply.

Ever since Sarah said that, Harley was hooked. _Really? That crazy? Tell me about him._

But Sarah refused to say any more. That really got Harley fascinated. She looked him up and read all about him but still wanted to learn more. How great would it be to work on his case! But no. She found herself stuck with some boring kleptomaniac. And when he was cured, she moved on to manic-depressive Doris, who was fun, but she still longed for the day when Jon would come into her office and say, "You're being promoted to the Criminally Insane department." And when the day did come, it was a dream come true. But instead of the Joker, she was given the Riddler. He was fun too, but he just started getting a bit...predictable. Question after question, she felt like she wasn't going anywhere. Then-

"Your sister has turned down the Joker case, and we're one doctor short. C-"

"YES! YES! I-I accept!" she exclaimed. And that's how she ended up here. Of course, she wasn't his psychiatrist, but this was as close as she was going to get.

Lecter smiled but said nothing. Harley turned to face the screen again. The Joker had finished his breakfast, and was lying, his hands behind his head, staring at the white ceiling. To his two spectators (and a security guard who wasn't paying attention), he looked perfectly poker-faced, which Harley thought was a good sign. Dr. Lecter thought otherwise. Truth was, inside, the Joker was boiling with fury.

_How dare she abandon me!? How dare she!? Reasons have nothing to do with me, HA! Coward. How I HATE that, _he thought. He was, of course, referring to Dr. Mirrel.

Dr. Mirrel ran all the way home and slammed the door behind her.

"Rough day at work, sweetie?" asked her husband, looking up from his newspaper.

"You have no idea," Dr. Mirrel replied.

He smiled. James Mirrel had always found the fact that his wife worked in a mental asylum extremely funny. He went back to his newspaper.

Dr. Mirrel felt an odd, depressed feeling, like she had taken the trouble to go into the tunnel and had just found out there's no light at the end of it. She glanced at her dull, 52-year-old husband and understood why she had that peculiar sensation, though the very thought of it horrified her. She simply didn't love him anymore. Wait. There was no "any more". It slowly dawned on her she had never loved him.

She then got a panicked feeling, the sort you get when you realise you've lost your wallet or you're lost and walked swiftly to the bedroom before he could see it.

She locked the door behind her. What happened? Where did it go wrong? She had heard this happen to a lot of her colleagues. The wedding's great, you're full of dreams, but as the years drag on the flame just fizzles out till you're left with nothing but ashes. This was the classic situation with everybody. But...did she even love him to begin with? No. She had convinced herself she loved him and that was final.

It all started when she left university. He was a part-time lecturer, they got talking and he asked her out. She accepted but she felt nothing. Not even a spark. But she had never fallen in love. She thought this was how you were meant to feel. And he was interesting, mildly funny. He was OK. She had gone on dates before, sure, but they were all either really boring or a disaster. This was her first _good_ date. So when he proposed she accepted. How could she resist? He had a degree in law, a good job as a solicitor, he was sure to be faithful (cheating would be way out of his league), and her parents (especially her dad) would definitely approve. Besides, declining would be out of the question. She had always been shy and humble, the complete opposite of her vivacious sister, Harleen.

Harleen, of course, stuck up her nose at him. "How can you like _him_?" she asked Dr. Mirrel (just plain Sarah then) one night when they were doing the dishes after he had come over for dinner. "He's all _old_ and boring. Doesn't he ever have difficulty, you know, getting it up?"

"_Harley_!" hissed Sarah.

The relationship between Sarah Mirrel and her sister had always been a bit rocky, ever since...well, Harley was born, really. Their mother had bought baby Harley from the hospital one day and whispered to 7-year-old Sarah, "Well, what would you think we should call her, sweetie?"

"Oh um...Harley! Call her Harley, mom, like the harlequin clown person! Harley Quinzel, get it, mom? Harlequin!"

Her mother liked the name. So did her dad. So Harley Quinzel it was. But Harley grew to detest the name. She didn't think it was funny. She hated the curl of her teacher's lip whenever she said the name and the smirks from the other kids. She blamed her sister for all of this, because, after all, it was her sister who came up with the name. But despite their differences, they got on OK. Most of the time.

"I'm telling you, it's a bad mistake," Harley mumbled to her sister. "What's love without _lust_?"

And, of course, Sarah ignored her and went on to become Sarah Mirrel. (The "Dr." part came in later, when she got her degree in psychology.) It was only now, slumped in the corner of her room, she realised her sister was right. _Where was the lust?_

...What was lust?

But she already knew. Lust was what she felt every time she thought of the Joker. She knew it would be impossible to try and push this new alien feeling to the back of her head, as she did with most feelings. It was too strong. She would have to just keep quiet, shun anything to do with him and hope it would give up on her. Whether or not _he_ gave up on _her_, however, was another matter.


	11. The infamous Dr Quinzel

"Injection time, Jo-patient 34029."

"Go right ahead Sophie."

As far as humans went, Sophie wasn't bad. With reddish hair and hazel eyes, she would have been pretty were it not for her unfortunate nose. She was boisterous to say the least, and into heavy rock and punk music. Like the Joker, she hated her boss Dr. Peterman, head of the Criminally Insane Department. She always sniggered at the Joker's jokes when no-one was looking, and she was the nurse that bought him his injections. His wonderful mind-numbing injections. Oh yes. Sophie was all right.

"Now, I'm also going to be taking a few teeny blood samples. That's OK, right?" she said, injecting him with the first injection.

"Sure. How are Kate and Josh? And...the husband?" he said in a mockingly dark undertone.

Sophie smirked. It was a little joke between them. She didn't remember how, but somehow The Joker was the only one who knew that she cheated on her husband regularly whenever she could. She always preferred to walk on the wild side. "They're fine. Now, this won't hurt a bit."

Joker watched the rich, dark red, almost black liquid race up the needle, utterly poker-faced. Everybody at the hospital hated it when the Joker went poker-faced. It made you feel uneasy because you had no clue what he was feeling or thinking. The only person who could pull off a poker face as good as the Joker's was...well...Hannibal the Cannibal himself. Sophie felt herself get goosebumps.

Just then, the door opened and a pair of long slender legs walked in. They were the first thing the Joker noticed in his position (slumped on the floor). They were followed by a black miniskirt and a dark red blouse. Then came the face. It had the exact same shape, same jaw line as Dr. Mirrel (Joker was good as recognising tiny details like these). He realised this must be none other than Dr. Mirrel's sister, Dr...Dr. Quinzel, wasn't it? He was surprised. She looked nothing like what he imagined her to be. Other than that small detail, she showed no relation to her sister. Dr. Mirrel had quite a few wrinkles, whereas this stranger's face was perfect and smooth. Dr. Mirrel was a brunette with dull light brown eyes and she was blonde with lovely blue eyes that brightened when she saw him.

"And you must be the sister of Dr. Mirrel!" he murmured, half-smiling. "The infamous Dr. Quinzel."

He was staring at her carefully, unflinchingly, the way a snake might stare at a baby rabbit. It made Sophie's stomach turn but at the same time she felt a small twinge of jealousy.

Dr Quinzel smiled, showing beautiful, even white teeth. This woman looked too perfect for words. Sophie felt envious again.

_Wow, _thought Joker. _She must get a lot of attention in the staff room._

"How did you know? Everybody says my sister and I look nothing alike!" Dr. Quinzel exclaimed, folding her arms casually.

"Oh, I just have a knack for these things," Joker said. Sophie's mouth twitched. It was the smallest of twitches, and only lasted a millisecond, but that was enough for the Joker._ I guess it must be hard for all the commoners to look at a face like that and not feel jealous_, he thought with glee.

"Well, then, seeing as you know me so well already, and I definitely know all about you, there's no need for the awkward introduction and tedious small talk, huh? I just wanna say that I've been assigned to your case and am your substitute psychiatrist. I've always believed it's very important to meet your patients beforehand, wouldn't you agree, erm…Sophie?"

Sophie, who had been staring at the pair of them talking with what looked like a slightly sour expression to the Joker, (who was highly observant, especially when it came to reading facial expressions), blinked at Dr. Quinzel as if she had been interrupted from a pleasant reverie.

"Erm, sure, yeah. Of course, it's always the _female_ doctors who believe most strongly in enforcing this rule." She quipped sharply. The Joker sniggered. Dr. Quinzel gave a small, forced smile and rolled her eyes. It was uncomfortably obvious to the Joker she was trying not to blush.

Sophie looked at neither of them and started packing up her medical kit. Ugh, how disgusting. That tart was making eyes at him. It was so painfully obvious she was flirting. Honestly, who would wear a black miniskirt to an asylum?? And how could _she_ like the Joker? Sure, he was handsome, in a punky gothic sort of way, which_ was_ Sophie's style, but you'd never expect someone as unblemished as Harleen to be into that kind of stuff. She was so flawless, so typically American. She was the kind of girl who would marry a perfect American boy and have perfect American kids and live in the suburbs and go to picnics on Sundays and invite the Jeffersons over for dinner. Mingling with crazy people and dirt like Sophie was way out of her league.

People like Harley always made her feel sick. They always had this irritating facade where they convinced you they were all innocent and sinless. But really, they were the just the same as Sophie. Maybe even worse. Harley being a perfect example. Look at her, only two days in and flirting with the most dangerous patient there.

"See ya, J," said Sophie, walking out the room, and closing the door with a slam.

"I better get going too," said Harleen. She looked faintly worried. It was hidden very subtly in her features, which Joker knew was how most psychiatrists hide their feelings.

_Why, is she scared Sophie's gonna rat on her, is she anxious about the crazy guy in the room?_ thought the Joker.

"Erm, er, bye," she said, closing the door behind her.

_What happened?_ She asked herself. _He must have thought I was a total freak!_

Just then, Sophie passed her and gave her the evil eye. That's right. The evil eye. Who did she think she was? Wasn't she married? It was none of her business how Harley acted or didn't act around her patients. Harley scowled back but Sophie was already gone. Damn that redhead. Correction. Big-nosed, squinty-eyed, evil little redhead. Thought she was so superior to Harley. Harley was the doctor here. _She_ was just some self-righteous nurse.

Harley was still fuming when she came into the office. That was until she heard the news.


	12. Bad news

Dr. Arkham was tired. Well. That was nothing new. He spent an hour and a half pacing up and down the room of his shabby rented apartment. These annual meetings with the Board of Psychology bored him to tears. He always looked for an excuse to leave a month early. Unfortunately, one did come.

His cell phone rang and he picked it up, knowing it was bad news. He could feel it.

"Hello? Yes. Yeah. Why? What? _What_? _Mirrel_? Are you sure..? That...that's terrible...Do you have any idea who...? Oh. OK. OK. Yeah. When? OK, I'm coming back, Jon. Huh? I can cancel it! _This_ is more important...OK. OK. Bye."

Dr. Arkham closed his cell phone. He took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. Tomorrow, no...today, he was going to tell the administrator that he had to go, devastating accident, colleague's funeral on Sunday, and he'd be on the next flight to Gotham. He checked the clock.

"Hello, yes, I'd like to book a flight to Gotham City...today...7 o'clock? I'll take it. Thanks, bye."

He poured himself a generous amount of scotch from the bar and picked up the phone again.

"Hello, Mr. Zelner? Yes, I have something important to tell you..."


	13. I didn't do nothing!

**Hey, sorry it's really late but I've been really busy. Enjoy anyway.**

"Hey, J-patient 34029."

Sophie hated calling the Joker that. It made him sound like an animal or some _thing_. Not an actual human being. No wonder he was crazy, being treated like this.

"Sophie, I've told you again and again. Call... me... _Joker_."

"Yeah, but...I mean, I'd like to...but I really am not allowed..."

Joker rolled his dark eyes. Those beautiful eyes. Then looked at her. He looked amused. That was all she could see. But then again, the Joker always looked like that, what with his carved grin and all. So, once again, she decided he poker-faced her. Ugh. Why did he always do that?? Would it hurt, just once, to show some human emotion other than manic glee?

"Sophie! Take my blood, fill my body with drugs, leave. Have you forgotten why you're here?"

Sophie blinked. "Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry, sorry."

"Ah, good, you follow."

"I was _thinking_..."

The door opened. In came a bulky security guard.

"We're gonna need patient 34029, please...Sophie?" he said, squinting at her name tag.

"What? Why? I didn't do nothing!" hissed the Joker. The comic way he displayed shock made Sophie giggle.

"It's about a certain Dr. Mirrel," said the security guard ominously.

"Huh...wait just a minute, I'm almost done," said Sophie, giving Joker the last injection. "He's all yours."

The Joker scowled at her petulantly as the security guard dragged him away.


End file.
